


Olivers Garden

by IWantTomNookToEatMyAss



Category: storytelling - Fandom
Genre: Coming Out, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Love, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Love Story, M/M, Men - Freeform, being gay, boys, gay boys, gay love story, gay story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24126820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWantTomNookToEatMyAss/pseuds/IWantTomNookToEatMyAss
Summary: This is just a metaphor for my crush.
Kudos: 2





	Olivers Garden

‘Oliver’s Garden’

Chapter 1 

This story begins with me, age nine, playing with the sticks and dirt in the backyard of my childhood home. Sat by the old, decrepit fence that stood surrounding the yard, I played with sticks and mud for hours. Ever since I had been an infant, I had loved to play in the mud in my yard, I could sit there and just watch the mud fall through the holes in my fingers as the clouds rolled by. The mud had a special glow about, it was hypnotically eye catching. Everyday I would wake up and eat breakfast, but as soon as I had finished my eggs on toast or sugary cereal I would run outside to play with the mud. Eventually it would get dark, and mum would call me in for supper, and every night I would hesitantly leave, only to dream about it at night. 

One day, a friend of mine from school had invited me over. His name was Oliver, he had brown, curly hair that seemed to fall perfectly on his face. His eyes were blue, and so it was his favourite colour. Oliver had a blue room, blue clothes, blue toys and refused to use pencils that were any colour other than blue. The glasses he wore were far too large for his head, although he wouldn’t get rid of them because they were blue. We shared interests and we both loved playing in the dirt, so much so that we would rip sticks off of the trees and whack each other until someone actually got hurt. On this particular day, Oliver’s father had attempted to mow the lawn, instead he was left with a large hole in the corner of his yard from a broken lawn mower blade. Naturally, Oliver and I had to play in it. We brought out all of his blue truck toys and we filled them with dirt and threw them at one another. Just before evening fell, Oliver’s mother, Maria, had decided to water their perfectly pristine garden. Their garden was beautiful and vibrant, Maria had planted carnations and daisies all along the fenceline. She had also been growing a wall of rose bushes adorned with the most luscious, yellow roses. The dirt hole we played in, soon became mud. Oliver and I grabbed handfuls of mud and chucked them in each other’s faces. 

Tucked behind a couple bushes was a paved pathway that led to Oliver’s treehouse. The cubby sat high in an oak tree and had a ladder that reached the very top of the tree. His treetop mansion was our oasis, we would read together, pretended together and played board games together, although Oliver was a terrible cheat. He couldn’t help himself, I would turn to get my drink bottle and he would have snatched six hundred monopoly dollars and then acted like nothing happened. It’s safe to say I never beat him. The walls of the treehouse were purple, funnily enough, that was the only time Oli could stand being around anything other than blue. Purple was my favourite colour, although I wasn’t as obsessed as Oliver was. Maria called us in for supper and served Oli and I a plate of corned beef and carrots. I wasn’t a fan of carrots, they are orange and mushy and don’t have anything special about them. But I ate them because I hated being rude.


End file.
